November 15, 2006
Each day it is the same routine. A little white minivan comes into our subdivision and parks down the street in front of a metal box. A sweet little old lady gets out of the car carrying a tub of envelopes and she proceeds to move the envelopes from the tub to the metal box. Approximately half way through her daily exercise I will begin walking from my house down to the metal box. When I get half way she begins to frantically move envelopes from the tub to the slots. She almost gets finished when I arrive and ask her the same question, “Did I get anything from the Arizona Diamondbacks?” Everyday I hear the same answer, “I’m sorry Mr. Summers but still nothing from the team. I’m sure that it is coming; you just need to be patient. With that I retrieve what other items may be in our mail slot and trudge home dejected again. Today was different. Today when I began walking she saw me and didn’t rush to try and beat me thereby eliminating the need to give me the bad news. Today she started approaching me and in her hand was a gift from the baseball gods.